First Time in a Long Time
by trapt-tage
Summary: Satoshi sees someone he hadn't forgotten long after graduation. They catch up. SatoDai. One shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own DNAngel.

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The First Time in a Long Time 

Satoshi had imagined he had seen him once, hand-in-hand with a little boy, strolling the packed galleries of a Tokyo exhibition. But he was gone in the blink of an eye, shuffled away by the grown-up crowd, or maybe having never been there at all, and Satoshi simply turned back to his run-of-the-mill art critics (which had a total lack of charm in that they had nothing original to say) and the over-enthusiastic curators that had accosted him. He went back to being engaged in the same conversations about Aestheticism and technique that he had at every exhibition.

It was a week later that the two of them met, a coffeehouse downtown. As a well-off, well-trained, business-versed member of the gentility, it would have been expected that he take his coffee from a ritzier joint with mint chocolates in the middle of the table and waitresses that couldn't scowl when hit on, but on the advice of "_play the part of the starving artist_," he had come back to the hometown (albeit somewhat yuppy-ish) atmosphere of coffee shops and department stores. He preferred the lack of suits anyway.

"Hiwatari-kun?" An old voice and an old friend, one that Satoshi had actually been hoping to forever avoid. That just made things a whole lot easier for him. "I saw some of your work in Tokyo the other day... I really like it, it's--"

"--exactly the same as everything else I've ever painted. Why thank you. Hello Niwa."

There was talk of family, of invitations to a bachelor's party, a wedding, and several birthdays that had seemingly been lost in the mail; of separation, divorce, custody, and a lot of time spent alone nowadays. Satoshi hadn't wanted to mention all the girlfriends he had been disenchanted with within the week, or the appointment after appointment schedule he lived on only to come home to a blank canvas as throw some masterpiece into existence with utterly no interest in it at all. He only said that they had one thing in common after all this time-- they had a lot of time alone.

An afternoon coffee lead to a downpour and a cab ride, and one apartment between the two of them. Sitting across the table from each other, Daisuke started talking again. His voice had the same quality Satoshi remembered from when they were boys-- light and innocent, grasping the gravity of everything but still hoping to solve it all with a magic wand . Something simple. He had always been a rather lucky boy, things had always gotten themselves solved for him, but it meant he had never been one to get over his disappointments quickly. The disappearance of Dark had been one such event. His failed marriage, it seemed, had become another.

"It wasn't that dramatic or anything, there was no yelling or getting angry at each other, Riku just asked one night if we really loved each other anymore. I didn't want to lie to her; everything just… didn't feel like it used to feel.

"And it wasn't her, really, I think it was more my fault. I was the one that didn't pay her enough attention or think about her enough. I was the one that made it stop working." Daisuke finished in an ashamed mumble, slightly regretting how much he had said. He had just needed to say it, and stop carrying it around on his chest. And, he had wanted Satoshi to know.

Satoshi on the other hand, had only the vaguest of ideas of how to deal with Daisuke's admission, having never been nearly so emotional as his friend, and having certainly never lived through a divorce. But there was one thing that he had understood just as well as Daisuke had.

"You're still alive, right?"

Daisuke looked up at him, slightly confused, and nodded.

"Even though you're not with Riku anymore, you still made it out okay, right? Same as when Dark was sealed. You found out you can live without him, right?" Satoshi knew it might be a slightly touchy topic, but he had always been a little too blunt for his own good. Even if he made this grown man cry, Daisuke'd have at least seen his point.

They were both silent as Satoshi's words sunk in, Satoshi watching his friend, not sure what response to expect, and Daisuke with his eyes lowered, tracing the black streams and rivers of the grains in the table. Satoshi remembered why ,when he had graduated high school, he had told himself he never wanted to see Niwa Daisuke again. Because every time he saw him, he hoped he'd never leave.

Daisuke looked up, a light smile on his lips, "Thanks, Hiwatari-kun. For trying to cheer me up." Hadn't changed a bit since they were teenagers. "I probably shouldn't have gotten you so involved in my problems anyway."

Satoshi simply watched him, still amazed by the child that in front of him. The one he was glad had never grown up. "It's nothing. If you ever need anything though, I guess you know where I am now," he said sheepishly. Their glasses were empty. More coffee.

Satoshi would have gotten the coffee, he really would have (not that they hadn't already had enough coffee), had Daisuke not reached across the table and kissed him. Awkward, yes. But the point had been gotten across. The real challenge wasn't finding the bed, so much as explaining to Daisuke's son who the _other_ man was was going to be.


End file.
